


Close Your Eyes

by lillianschild



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianschild/pseuds/lillianschild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's more to see than just with sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Your Eyes

**Disclaimer** : Tiger Aspect Productions and the BBC are free to claim whatever they own of this piece, except Guy's thoughts and my words which are ours to keep. lol.  
  
**A/N:** this is another reworking of an old fic of mine originally written for a different fandom. It's set after _Treasure of the Nation (Series 2- Episode 11)_ and diverts from canon after that.

 

You are lying naked on the fine linen sheets of my four-poster bed. And now that your limbs are no longer desperately entwined with mine- seeking to be permanently filled to chase away that feeling of emptiness that has been there for months- you look at me with different eyes, eyes that belong to the young woman who’s given up on love and life and settled for an eternal afterthought. I see again the usual bitter animosity that resides in them when you’re his, and I hate him for his intruding in this room- our room since you came to me after our return from the Holy Land.  
  
I could leave these tousled sheets, get dressed and be what everyone expects to see when they look at me outside this room. However, I feel the need to show you there’s more than blood and bone we share. I too have given up on love and life and it’s only in this bed that I feel and breathe. You’ve settled for an afterthought while I’ve been one most of my life. We’ve been hurt, abandoned and betrayed time and time again. We wear this cynical armour to hide what is really inside. Although I still don’t know what’s finally pushed you into my arms, I know it’s only when your brown hair is splayed across my pillow and you arch your supple curves to make our coupling deeper that you let yourself be who you really are. Neither of us is an afterthought in this bed, in this room; and today I feel the need to cling to that. It’s a need that’s been growing deeper and bigger with every new encounter.  
  
I stretch out an arm across the chasm you brought back to our shared refuge the minute you let him come between us again. This isn’t me begging; I would never willingly suffer the indignity of being rejected again. I’m reaching out for what I know is mine for the taking. I can feel you fight the sensations which my hand provokes in you as it traces your thigh, the curve of your hip, your waist and then runs up your flank to cup one smooth breast, which grows fuller under my expert caresses. I read betrayal in your eyes when a moan escapes your mouth and you press closer, yearning to be touched. I want to erase that look from your eyes; it has no room in this bed because it puts a veil in front of them and doesn’t let you see what is really there.  
  
Soon there are just a few inches between us and both our breaths have grown heavier. I thread my fingers through your hair and bring your lips close to mine. I wait for you to make a move. I feel your pebbled peaks chafing against my chest and your feminine core beckoning to be filled again. I let my hand roam your bare back while Robin’s sidekick wages her own personal battle with your other self- the Marian Fitzwalter who fought next to me to bring down the devil when the survival of Nottingham was at stake. I feel a puff of warm breath against my lips as you breach the short distance which separates us and the evidence of my desire is finally cradled between your thighs. I know you’re expecting me to take what I want, but I won’t until you see what is really there.  
  
There’s a fleeting look of confusion in your blue orbs when you don’t feel me move and then a glint of rebelliousness which is more Marian’s than the sidekick’s. I want to stoke that feeling because I know it’s the only way you won’t put at stop to this thing that you started the morning you came to me at Locksley. I can’t let you go back permanently to whom you’re outside this haven because then I’d have to go back to the numb void that is my life beyond this room. I let my hand smooth down your back once again and stop just above your buttocks and that gives you the little push you need to fuse our lips in an open-mouthed kiss and seek the friction your bundle of nerves desperately needs.  
  
I roll us over the bed and take control of the kiss, suddenly unable to restrain that yearning to feel which has been haunting me of late. You’re clinging to me as if you were afraid to find out you aren’t what I want after all. You wriggle under me to hook your ankles around my hips, and I pull my mouth away from yours reluctantly to look at your face. It’s at that moment- when I’m a stroke away from making you mine for the second time today- that his sidekick chooses to make an appearance again.  
  
I can’t let Robin ruin this too. I can’t let him take away from me the only stolen moments of real connection I have left in my life. I run my hands down the suddenly coiled muscles of your thighs, holding your gaze with mine.  
  
“Close your eyes,” I murmur, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as shaky as I’m feeling.  
  
I keep rubbing up and down your legs, praying he’ll set you free- at last- to be able to see what is really there and not what he and the others always expect there to be.  
  
_It's more than blood and bone we share._  
  
“Close them, Marian,” I insist gently, cupping your cheek.  
  
And you do. And I breathe again as you press forward and invite me to sheathe myself in your welcoming warmth once again.  
  
_We're all the same when you are blind._  
  
And the frenzy that seized us a few minutes ago gives way to a languorous rocking.  
  
_There's more to see than just with sight._  
_So close your eyes and see what's there;_  
_You see more blind than when you stare._  
  
Your hands look blindly for mine; our fingers entwine and- leaning forward to breach any distance that might be left between us- I press our hands at both sides of your head on the pillow.  
  
As my lips hover above your panting mouth and the gentle swaying turns more urgent, you flutter your eyes open again.  
  
“Close your eyes, Marian,” I say breathless. “I want you to see.”  
  
And you do. And I breathe.  
  
  
_We're not so different when you are blind._  


**Author's Note:**

> The lines in italics belong to the poem “Close your Eyes” by Alison Rotmark


End file.
